Hunger
by SleepMyBella
Summary: Edward came back, and it's like he never left...except for his guilt, and her hunger. AU/in character, post-New Moon.  Rated M for lemons and mature themes.
1. Chapter 1: Frosted Strawberry PopTarts

**Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. My heart belongs to Edward Cullen.**

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Chapter One: Frosted Strawberry PopTarts

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The soft buttery glow from the lamp on her night table washed tenderly across the planes of her face, her features relaxed in sleep. The pointed chin, the rounded angles of her jaw, the feathered eyelashes that rested on her cheeks, the soft pink curves of her lips, slightly parted now in slumber, allowing her impossibly sweet breath to wash over my face. I lay beside her, breathing her in, with no thought for the burn in my throat, made stronger by the months apart.

If those months had taught me anything, it was that I could not live without her, immortal though I may be.

I allowed the icy fingers of my left hand to lift to her beloved face, following the patterns that the light made over her skin. I kept the touch feather-light, not wanting to disturb her sleep. It was obvious that she had not been getting nearly enough of that these past months.

Dark, purple-black half-moons marred the skin beneath her eyes. I didn't think I'd ever seen such dark circles under the eyes of anyone who wasn't a vampire. The skin around her eyes looked so fragile and thin, like a single touch would cause it to crumble to dust, its matrix compromised by the pain she'd endured.

_All the king's horses and all the king's men..._

I clenched my own eyes shut as another tidal wave of remorse washed over me, only the latest in a never-ending torrent of regret.

What had I done to her?

The fragile skin of her too-pale face and the circles beneath her eyes mocked me, like a chronicle of my many, many mistakes. Mistakes that I knew would haunt me for the rest of my existence.

How could I ever have been so foolish as to leave her?

My arms contracted around her, holding her to me as tightly as I could without fear of harming her. I buried my face in her hair, drinking in the scent that had tormented me for so long, the scent that had threatened my control, her safety, my very sanity. How could I have ever guessed that I would come to crave her scent, crave _her_, not for the want of her sweet blood, but simply for herself.

_Her._ My Bella.

Until the loss of her, with her scent and her sweet smile and her warm eyes and her love, pushed me over the edge of sanity and into darkness. I had never known a pain so acute, ripping a hole in my marble chest, shredding my still heart into a thousand pieces.

Even the agonizing pain of my transformation could not compare to the unspeakable pain of losing Bella.

My mind instinctively shied away from the thought, not wanting to relive the months of desolation and hopelessness.

Especially not that single, twenty-four-hour period in which I had believed the love of my existence to be dead.

There aren't words to describe that day. I can only say that it will always remain the worst day of my very long life, no matter what comes after.

Bella stirred slightly in my arms, her eyelids fluttering. I glanced at the glowing green numerals of the clock on her bedside table. 5:33 am. Far too early for her to wake. I was determined that those bruised shadows beneath her eyes would be gone within the week.

I began to hum her lullaby softly, rubbing my hands over her back, attempting to soothe her back to sleep. My stomach clenched as the familiar melody floated softly into the warm air of the quiet room. There had been a time, only a few days ago, when I thought I'd never see her again, much less hold her in my arms and hum her to sleep.

The fact that she'd allowed me back into her life after all I had done to hurt her was nothing less than a miracle to me. I would be forever grateful for her forgiveness, even if I knew I didn't deserve it.

She settled back into slumber with a soft sigh. As my hands continued to trace her narrow back I was brought back to another concern, one that had first caught my notice when she came to me in Volterra, saving me from my own darkness.

She was so thin.

The tiny delicate wings of her shoulder blades felt sharp beneath my palms. I could feel each individual facet of her fragile spine, prominent beneath her skin as my fingertips skimmed from her neck to her waist. The slim bars of her ribcage protruded alarmingly beneath the thin blue cotton of her shirt.

She must have lost ten pounds since I had last seen her in September. Perhaps even fifteen. She had been slender to begin with-not unhealthily so, but enough so that she could ill afford to lose so much weight.

If I had been afraid I would hurt her before, that fear was doubled now. She looked so fragile that I feared a human could break her in half with the slightest touch, let alone a vampire with unfathomable strength.

How had she become so thin? Had she not been eating regular meals? It was not unusual for her to forget to eat on occasion, when she became absorbed in some task that she enjoyed. Reading or writing were the two most common culprits. But it wasn't like her to eat so little that she lost weight or became unhealthy. She was far too responsible for that, feeling her obligations keenly—caring for Charlie, doing well in school, worrying over Renee. She was the most constant, steadfast creature I had ever known. Knowing this only made my worry increase.

What had happened to her when I left?

I was afraid to find out the whole of it. I was afraid that knowing the full, uncensored, unflinching extent of the damage I had caused would shatter me all over again.

I thought back to three days ago, when I had carried an exhausted Bella in the front door of her home after our return from Italy.

The look on her father's face when he saw me...

If looks really could kill, I would have been nothing but a pile of ashes at Charlie's feet.

His mind was tinged red with rage. His thoughts came to me in that slow, muddy way that was peculiar to his mind, a pale echo of Bella's own ability to keep her thoughts her own.

_Son of a bitch. _

_How dare he? How dare he come back here after everything he's done to her?_

His mind flashed sluggishly, and I sucked my breath in harshly at the images that came to me.

Bella lying on the couch in the living room, soaking wet, face a pale mask.

Bella lying on the wooden floor of her bedroom, hair a tangled mess around her, eyes open and lifeless, staring at nothing_._

Bella slumped listlessly in her bed, eyes blank and face unresponsive as Charlie attempted to coax her to sip water from the glass in his hand.

The weathered face of a white-haired man, his lips moving as his gravelly voice formed the word "_catatonic._"

Bella at the kitchen table, face drawn and pale and thin, brown eyes vacant and smudged with dark circles as she quietly ate a bowl of Cheerios.

A piercing, shattering scream of pure terror and pain, Charlie rushing into Bella's darkened room to find her shaking and sobbing uncontrollably.

I flinched. I stopped breathing.

I felt my stomach lurch with a sick horror at the images in Charlie's mind.

In these images, Bella was..._broken._ Completely and utterly destroyed. And I had done this. I had done this with my selfishness and my thoughtlessness and my lack of faith, my arrogant pride in thinking I knew what was best for her.

I alone was responsible.

I had never been so ashamed of anything in my entire existence.

Once I had made it up the stairs and tucked a sleeping Bella carefully into her bed, I turned to face Charlie where he stood at her bedroom door. His wrath was clear upon his face, the thin ropes of his veins standing out with livid prominence on the furiously reddened skin of his neck and forehead.

"You _bastard_," he spat. "Do you have _any_ idea what you put her through?" His hands clenched into tight balls at his sides, and an image of his fist slamming into my jaw appeared in his murky thoughts. Though I knew the only thing that would come of that scenario was a broken hand on his part, I wished that I could give him the satisfaction of breaking my jaw.

I certainly deserved it, and more.

"I nearly had to put her in the damn _hospital_ because of what you did to her!" he roared. His entire body shook with barely restrained violence. He wasn't just Chief Swan now; he was a furious father protecting his daughter against anything and everything that would do her harm.

It sickened me to think that I could belong in that category, in so many different ways.

Charlie panted as he tried to regain control over himself. His mind flowed with a slow flash of an image that came to me like a punch to the solar plexus.

Bella lying on her side in the middle of her rumpled bed as that same white-haired man carefully inserted a thin needle into the back of her bony hand. The needle was attached to a clear tube that descended from a fluid-filled bag suspended from a metal pole above her bed. I could hear the steady drip of the saline as it began to flow into her veins.

If there had been anything in my stomach, I was sure it would have been violently expelled at that moment.

The doctor carefully taped the needle down to her skin. What struck me the hardest blow was the expression on Bella's face–-or rather, the lack thereof. I knew how much Bella hated needles. But she did not react in even the slightest way to the doctor's ministrations. Her face was..._dead_. Completely and utterly expressionless as she stared off into space. Her beautiful chocolate eyes- that had once sparkled with life and humor and love that I didn't deserve- were flat and dull, as closed-off and impenetrable as her silent mind.

Her face reminded me savagely of a memory of my own face from our time apart. My still body lying in a similar position on the filthy floor of a rat-infested attic somewhere in Rio de Janeiro. What little sunlight found its way in through the grimy single window illuminated a scratched and battered mirror that rested against the wall directly across from me. My own expression was an eerie mirror image of Bella's. Pale skin sparkling faintly in the dim light, deep purple circles beneath pitch-black eyes that were shattered with unbearable pain and loss.

That mirror was soon shattered as well, when I could no longer bear to see my own reflection. That was the last time I'd seen my face until I saw my reflection in the mirror of the airport restroom in Florence. But even when I couldn't see my dead eyes, there was never a moment when I couldn't feel them.

It killed me to think that I had caused Bella even a fraction of the pain that I myself had felt.

Charlie's fury was still barely controlled as I swallowed hard and tried to pull myself together.

"I...I'm so sorry for what I did to her. You have no idea how sorry." I knew my words were inadequate at best. They would not appease him. "I'll fix it. I'll do anything to fix it, if she'll let me."

Charlie stared at me with pure hatred burning in his eyes, eyes the same color as Bella's.

"Get the hell out of my house. _Now._ You are never to walk through my door again. _Ever_. You stay away from my daughter. If I see or hear of you anywhere near her..." his voice faltered as he struggled for control once more. "Get. Out." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, but the calm he searched for eluded him. "_Now!_" he roared.

I nodded, and walked slowly past him and out the door.

He had more than every right to ban me from his house, but I knew I couldn't stay away from her. If it hadn't been for Bella's intervention, I would have been restricted to seeing her furtively at school, and at night after Charlie slept. As it was, I wasn't allowed to spend nearly enough time with her. Every moment that we were apart was like the ache of a missing limb.

She stirred in my arms once more as the sun began to brighten the sky to its usual dull gray. 8:17. It was Sunday, and I'd hoped she would sleep a bit later while she had the chance. Tomorrow we would return to school. But her eyes fluttered and opened slowly, warm dark chocolate irises sleepy and soft.

My entire universe was in those eyes.

She smiled as her eyes met mine. I reached up to stroke a stray strand of her tangled hair off her cheek. I couldn't fathom my good fortune. That she would forgive me for all my myriad sins, for the reprehensible actions that had caused her so much pain–-that I was here with her, in her room, on her bed, holding her and stroking her face and looking into the tiny swirling galaxies of her eyes–-_God. _What a priceless gift.

I knew I didn't deserve it, but I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to.

I leaned in and placed a tiny kiss to the tender skin beneath each of her still-tired eyes. I wanted to soothe away those dark smudges that taunted me with their presence, undeniable markers of her suffering.

"Good morning, love." I returned her brilliant smile with one of my own and moved to kiss her lips. She kept them closed, pursing them comically in an attempt to kiss me back without releasing the dreaded morning breath. I laughed against her mouth as I was reminded of a hundred other mornings. Perfect mornings from our summer together when we had existed in a state of pure grace and beauty, until September came and I destroyed it all.

I pushed that thought away, not wanting to taint this moment with dark thoughts. I wanted to enjoy the miracle of being with her again. I coaxed her lips open slowly, feeling the smile upon my own. No matter how many times I told her that her breath was always the most delicious ambrosia to me–-morning or not–-she remained stubbornly unconvinced.

She snorted a laugh and pulled back, burying her face in my neck instead. I felt the heat of her blush against my skin. "Good morning," she said, the smile still in her voice.

I tightened my arms around her with a sigh of contentment, nuzzling my face into her hair.

Her stomach growled.

I laughed against her hair. "Time to feed the human. Shall I make you breakfast?"

She shifted against me. "I'm not really hungry, Edward. You don't have to do that."

I reached to tilt her chin up so I could see her eyes. "I want to, Bella." She needed to eat, as evidenced by the sharp blade of her shoulder beneath my palm. "What would you like?"

She hesitated, as if she wanted to argue. "Pop-Tarts,"she said finally. A small smile turned her lips up, but there was a tiny crease between her brows. I smoothed my finger over the crease, then placed a gentle kiss between her brows. Her smile grew.

"Pop-Tarts it is," I said as I moved to rise from the bed. "Don't move, love. I want to bring you breakfast in bed."

I flew down the stairs at vampire speed, nearly giddy with pleasure at the return of our routine. So many mornings I had performed this same task. It was as though I had never left.

The toasting pastries released their scent into the air of the kitchen. Frosted strawberry was her favorite. I waited impatiently as they warmed, then flipped them on a plate and raced eagerly back upstairs.

"Breakfast is served." I presented the plate to her with a small flourish.

"Thank you."

I watched as she took a small bite from the corner of the first tart.

"What would you like to do today, love? Charlie left to go fishing over an hour ago." This meant I could stay, though it was technically against the rules.

"Would you read to me?" Her eyes were large and oddly shy in her thin face. "I missed the sound of your voice so much. I could listen to it for hours."

My breath left me as if I had taken a punch, the reminder of what I had done making my stomach roll sickeningly. It was a moment before I recovered enough to speak. "Of course I'll read to you. I'll read all day if you want me to, anything you like. "

Her smile was blinding. "Pride and Prejudice. I think I left it on the coffee table downstairs."

Once I'd retrieved the book, we settled back into the rumpled bed. Bella laid her head on my chest as I began to read.

_"It is a truth universally acknowledged_ _that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife..."_

She was asleep before I finished the first chapter.

I moved carefully to lay the book on her night table, trying not to wake her. As I reached to turn off the lamp, something caught my eye.

Hidden behind the lamp and a stack of dusty paperbacks was a chipped yellow plate containing two frosted strawberry Pop-Tarts, one missing a single bite, the other untouched.


	2. Chapter 2:  Weight of the World

**A huge, heartfelt thank you to everyone who reviewed Chapter 1. It truly meant the world to me. A special thank you to solareclipses for her encouragement. If you are not reading her story, _Sins of the Piano Man, _you are missing something truly great. I squee like a fangirl whenever she updates. Go, read. You will not be disappointed. It is pure magic.**

**Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. My heart belongs to Edward Cullen.**

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Chapter Two: Weight of the World

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The cafeteria at Forks High School still smelled of pine-scented floor cleaner, old grease, and pepperoni pizza. Layered above these scents was the ever-present aroma of damp and moss and green that permeated every inch of this rainy peninsula.

Of course, for those of us who were not of the human persuasion, all this was only a bottom note underlying the gathered scents of the blood that pounded thickly through the veins of each of our classmates.

And for me, all this was as nothing compared to the ambrosial perfume that came from the girl walking next to me, her hand in mine.

It was surreal to be here again, walking through the cafeteria doors with my Bella. As if the past six months had never happened.

Oh, how I wished that were the case.

I ignored the repulsive, doughy scent of limp pizza and the salty, wet aroma of soggy sandwiches made with ham of dubious origin. I wallowed instead in freesia and lavender and warm and Bella, layered with strawberry from her favorite shampoo. Bella's delectable fragrance was infinitely more appealing than anything on offer at this counter.

As I breathed her in, I tried to figure out what on earth I was going to do.

I had not seen a morsel of food pass her lips since that single small bite of strawberry Pop-Tart yesterday morning.

She'd slept straight through lunch time yesterday, stirring only to murmur my name every so often, her forehead creasing as she spoke, then smoothing back out under my feather-light touch. I let her sleep, her exhausted body curled against my side, her arm across my chest. It wasn't until two o'clock, when I heard the sound of Charlie's police cruiser approaching, that I was forced to rouse her, not wanting to leave without saying goodbye.

I was banished from the house now that Charlie was home, and would have to sneak out Bella's bedroom window before he knew I was there. I would only be allowed to return during my designated visiting hours of seven p.m. to nine-thirty p.m.

She was alive, and she was near me, and that would have to be enough to sustain me until I could be with her again.

I hadn't gone far, though. Being away from her made my chest ache as though I couldn't get enough air, even though I didn't actually need air in the first place.

I needed her, though. She was my air.

So I'd sat, high up in the branches of the spruce tree outside the kitchen window, and listened to her day. There was the quiet rustle of denim and cotton as she hurriedly dressed, then stumbled down the stairs to greet Charlie, who was quite proud of the bucketful of fish he'd brought home. I heard Bella's sweet voice as she promised to cook some for dinner.

Later, there was the papery sound of pages being steadily turned as she read a book. The low roar of a basketball game on the television, and Charlie's slanderous mutterings about the incompetent referee. Then the clatter of dishes and pans and the sizzling pop of oil as she prepared their dinner. Their dinner conversation was quiet, and even more stilted than usual. Their relationship was still a bit strained owing to my return.

I wondered if Charlie would ever forgive me.

I'd been reassured by the sound of two forks scraping two plates. She was eating. Soon her body would begin to recover from the trauma I'd put her through. Her cheeks would fill out, her jutting collarbones would soften, her ribs would no longer be prominent. She would be healthy and vibrant once again.

The relief that flowed through me at this thought was indescribable. My Bella was going to be alright.

I'd held her all night, lost in the sweet scent of her blood and her murmured dreamings, relishing the feel of her in my arms and basking in that relief.

I had, of course, been forbidden to pick her up for school this morning, as per Charlie's new rules. I'd imagined her at the kitchen table, crunching on Rice Krispies and reading a book, as I readied for school and drove to meet her.

But I'd heard her stomach rumbling all morning. Long, drawn-out, angry-sounding growls of neglect and outrage.

I was sure that those sounds were loud enough to be heard by any human within a ten-foot radius, let alone a vampire with ultra-sensitive ears. She knew I could hear every last grumble.

The first time it had happened – a tiny growl like that of a small kitten – she'd turned to me and grinned, rolling her eyes at our long-standing private joke. _Time to feed the human. _But there was something wrong with her eyes. They were uneasy, and the smile didn't reach them.

I'd smiled back, enjoying our shared joke. But as the morning wore on, those angry, frustrated sounds from her stomach came louder, and more frequently. And Bella didn't smile any longer when they came.

Though I'd tried to catch her eye, she didn't look at me. Not directly, anyway. Quick, furtive glances that never met my eyes. Her face was wary, almost..._panicked._ Her arms wrapped around her middle, as though she were attempting to smother the telltale noises.

Something was very, very wrong here.

I'd kept her hand in mine and my eyes on her face as we'd walked to the cafeteria after class. She'd refused to meet my questioning eyes, though I knew she felt them on her, as a blush lit her face with color. She'd kept her eyes fixed straight ahead as we'd joined the line at the food counter.

I reached around her now and lifted one of the blue plastic trays from the stack before us.

"What would you like to eat, love?" I tried very, very hard to keep my voice even and smooth as I slid the tray along the counter. She would eat. She had to eat.

Her eyes widened with panic as she stared at the food before her. She seemed to shrink back against my side as I pushed her gently in front of me down the line.

"I'm not really that hungry – "

"Bella." Her name came out a bit strangled-sounding. I fought to compose myself before I spoke again. "I think your stomach has been saying otherwise this morning," I said lightly. I tried to inject a teasing note into my voice as I reminded her of our running joke.

A joke that had not been so funny today.

She tensed further against me at my words. She didn't speak for a moment, but nodded slowly. "I think I'll just get a salad today."

My jaw clenched as I reached to place a bowl of salad on the tray. What was going on here?

"Here's your salad. What else would you like?" My voice did not betray me this time. It remained steady and even and gave nothing away.

She was silent for a moment, and very, very still. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "Pizza."

I added a slice of the vile-smelling stuff to the tray. Then, for good measure, I added one of everything else. Sandwich, apple, granola bar, orange juice, milk. Maybe something here would tempt her appetite.

She eyed my selections with palpable apprehension, still refusing to meet my eyes. I wrapped an arm around her waist and steered her gently toward the cashier.

I pulled out my wallet to pay for Bella's lunch, just as I always had. It was one of the few things she'd ever allowed me to pay for. I would have bought her anything and everything she wanted. A new car, a new computer with wireless Internet, all the books she could read.

Instead I was forced to content myself with paying for her lunch.

I felt Bella shift against my side as we waited our turn to pay. I looked down to see her pulling her battered leather wallet from the front pocket of her school bag. I frowned in confusion. What was she doing? Did she think I would expect her to pay?

"Bella?"

She looked up, but her eyes rose no higher than the collar of my shirt.

"What are you doing, love?" I was suddenly, abruptly terrified that she would take this away from me.

_No._

She allowed me to do so little for her. Surely she would not deny me this one small thing. I wanted so badly to take care of her in any way she would allow.

I had so much to make up for.

She seemed to be confused, her brow furrowing slightly as she responded. "I'm getting some money to pay for my lunch." Her shadowed eyes finally met mine questioningly.

"Bella." Her name ripped through my suddenly tight throat. My voice sounded raw and desperate. "_Please_ allow me to pay."

Two tiny creases appeared between her eyebrows as she regarded me. "Edward," she said quietly, "I'm perfectly capable of paying for my own lunch, you know. I'm not destitute." She tried to soften her refusal with a weak attempt at humor, her mouth quirking in a small smile. Her eyes dropped from mine as she opened her wallet and riffled through the few bills inside.

I struggled to rein in the absurdly strong feelings of panic and helplessness that were threatening to drown me. "I know you aren't destitute. I just...I want to take care of you, Bella." My voice was soft and strained.

Her voice was almost absent as she pulled out a five-dollar bill, sounding as nonchalant as if she were speaking of the weather.

"I've managed to take care of myself for the past six months, Edward," she murmured, her head still lowered over her wallet. Coins jingled as she poked through her change.

Her words, spoken so casually, hit me like a fist to the stomach, hard and brutal.

I heard myself gasp. I felt like a fish out of water, gaping for air. I had a sudden, hazy flash of a distant memory from my long-ago human life. Watching the ground rushing toward me as my small child's body tumbled from the rough branches of the tallest oak tree in our backyard, feeling the air pressed forcibly out of my lungs as I hit the plush green grass, the endless, agonizing moment of terror as I struggled in vain to regain my breath.

Bella gasped, too, the sound an echo of my own pain. Her hand moved to cover her mouth as her horrified eyes lifted to mine.

"I didn't mean-" she seemed to struggle with her breathing as well. Now there were two gaping, suffocating fish waiting to be gutted. Her head moved frantically back and forth in denial as her huge brown eyes searched mine.

"That's not what I meant, Edward." Her words burst out of her lips like a flurry of panicked birds escaping a cage. I could feel my face frozen in a mask of pain and shame. There had been no condemnation, no reproach, no criticism in her voice as she'd spoken those words. Yet I _felt_ thoroughly shamed, chastised by my own guilt and regret.

It was true.

I _had_ left her to take care of herself. I'd abandoned her. I didn't deserve to have her trust me to care for her.

Not anymore.

There was a soft thud as Bella's wallet hit the floor, then the discordant tinny sound of scattered coins as they spilled out. Her hands fluttered uncertainly around my face, finally coming to rest with one palm on either side of my jaw. She stood on her toes, trying to bring our faces closer together.

It took a tremendous effort to force my contorted features to smooth over, but I did the best I could. She tugged gently until I dropped my face closer to hers, our eyes nearly level. Hers looked much too large for her thin, gaunt face. They were filled with fear and self-castigation.

"You know that's not what I meant," she repeated, her eyes begging, pleading with mine for understanding, for forgiveness. "I'm so, so sorry I said that, Edward. I didn't mean—I never want to hurt you. I swear I wasn't trying to blame you for anything. You know I don't—" Her words came faster and faster until she suddenly broke off, breathing fast and shallow. I could hear her pulse increasing, like the rapid fluttering of a cornered animal's heartbeat.

I quickly wrapped my fingers over hers where they still cupped my face, squeezing them gently. I had to calm her down. I tried to keep my voice from wavering, though it still trembled slightly as I spoke.

"Don't. It's alright, it's alright. You didn't do anything wrong."

Her breath hitched. "But I—"

"Shhh. I know you didn't mean anything unkind by saying what you did. You don't have an unkind bone in your body, love." I tried to smile, but I could feel it fall flat on my face. "And even if you _had_ meant to hurt me...well, it's nothing but the truth."

She shook her head, her eyes glistening as tears gathered at the corners. I stroked her fingers under mine in what I hoped was a soothing rhythm. "I understand why you left, Edward. You know I don't blame you for it."

"I know, sweetheart. You're the most forgiving creature I have ever known." I tried another smile; it felt a bit more natural this time.

She kept her gaze steady on mine. "There was nothing to forgive."

"Oh, Bella." I was suddenly overwhelmed with my adoration for this beautiful, loving, generous girl whose outer fragility belied an inner strength that few, if any, could equal. Her heart was as big as the universe.

I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, another to her nose, each cheek, and finally her beautifully stubborn chin. Her breathing and heartbeat slowly began to calm as I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her close and pressing my lips to the top of her head, feeling her melting into my embrace.

My Bella. How could I ever deserve her?

I let my hands move gently up and down her back until she was limp in my arms, paying no mind to the stares and whispers, nor to the line that continued to move around us. When her heart had slowed nearly to her normal rhythm, I spoke softly, hesitantly into her hair.

"It's my honor to care for you, love, if you will allow it." I took a deep, steadying breath, inhaling strawberries and flowers. "Please, _please _allow me to pay for your lunch."

She pulled back a bit to look at me. Her smile was tiny and cautious, her eyes retaining a touch of sadness that made my chest clench. Her voice was quiet and small. "Okay."

I let out the breath I'd been holding, sighing with relief. My words were fervent with gratitude. "Thank you."

I attempted her favorite crooked smile, hoping to melt the sadness from her eyes. I bent to retrieve her wallet, tucking the scattered coins and forgotten five-dollar bill back into their compartments, then placing it firmly back in her school bag which hung over my shoulder.

By the time we arrived at our table, Alice was already deeply involved in a conversation with Angela Weber about the latest fashions in "L. A." Angela's eyes were slightly glazed as she listened with a somewhat horrified fascination to Alice's endless prattling about up-and-coming designers and the merits of three-inch heels versus four. But kind soul that she was, Angela nodded politely and occasionally murmured agreement.

Angela's had been the kindest mind I'd heard this morning as we'd re-entered the halls of Forks High. As Bella and I had walked hand in hand from the parking lot toward our first class, the deluge had begun. The whispers and stares increased with each step we took. I, of course, had the added benefit—or curse— of hearing the thoughts of everyone we passed.

_So it's true. They really are back, after all this time. _Katie Marshall was in awe.

_Wonder if they're all back. _An image of Rosalie's face flashed through the lustful teenage mind of Lee Stephens. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

_I can't believe Bella took him back after he dumped her like that. _This from a very disgruntled Tyler Crowley as he saw our linked hands. His mind flashed to a painfully sharp image of Bella's ghostly white face, eyes blank as she stared into empty space. A blue plastic tray of food sat in front of her. Untouched apple, still-wrapped sandwich, unopened carton of milk.

I'd flinched.

Angela's always-gentle thoughts were full of nothing but happiness for Bella. _Oh, I'm so glad he's back. She needs him. It was obvious they were so in love with each other... _Bless that girl for her unending kindness.

The cautious assessment of Ben Cheney as he questioned my intentions. _He'd better be back for good. It wouldn't be fair for him to lead Bella on. After what happened the last time he left... _His mind showed me a very concerned-looking Angela as she questioned a listless Bella about their English assignment, receiving flat monosyllabic responses.

He had no need to worry. The last time I left her would truly be the _last _time I left her.

Jessica Stanley's vapid assessment of the situation. _Guh. He would go back to her. She's not even that pretty, and she's practically a skeleton these days. Maybe he'll get tired of her soon... _The petty girl would have a very long wait if she expected that to happen.

And the succinct reaction of Mike Newton, one-time bane of my existence when I thought him a rival for Bella's affections. _Aw, hell. Cullen's back._

Some things never changed.

I pretended not to see the lip curl that further marred the perpetually scowling face of Lauren Mallory as Bella and I took our places at the table. I tuned out the typically banal thoughts of those surrounding us, focusing all of my attention on the girl at my side.

The only girl in the world, as far as I was concerned.

I carefully placed the lunch tray squarely in front of her on the table. Normally I would take some food for myself, as a prop to blind the oblivious humans around me to my true nature. Today I had no patience for such frivolous charades. My every thought—every fiber of my cold stone being—was focused entirely on her.

The seconds ticked slowly by as she stared at the food before her, almost as if she wasn't sure what she was meant to do with it.

Fifteen seconds.

She didn't move.

Twenty-six seconds.

She didn't move.

_Please eat._

Thirty-nine seconds.

_Please, please. Eat._

Tension rolled off her body in waves as her fingers twisted together in her lap.

Forty-one seconds.

She didn't move.

Forty-seven seconds.

_Please. _

Fifty-two seconds.

I couldn't stand it any longer.

I reached my hand out toward her face, sliding my fingers carefully under her chin. I lifted her face gently toward mine until our eyes finally met.

My stomach dropped.

The look in her eyes..._oh, Bella._ The soft brown irises contained an ocean of anxiety, pain, and panicked fear. Her eyes implored mine, but what they were begging for, I didn't know.

But I knew in that moment that the implications of my accursed actions on that black day in September were even more far-reaching than I had thought.

My mind raced frantically with questions, fears, bitter self-recriminations, and plans.

I didn't know what to do to soothe her, to erase that wretched look from her haunted eyes. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. I brought my free hand up to caress her face, rubbing my fingers softly over the anxious lines of her forehead, then cupping both hands around her hollowed cheeks. I smoothed my thumbs over the shadows beneath her eyes with the lightest of touches, over and over again, as if I could remove them with my touch.

We stayed that way until the bell rang to end lunch, silent, our eyes locked, hers pleading, mine questioning.

And no matter how I tried, the shadows remained.


	3. Chapter 3:  Atlas

**To everyone who left me such kind reviews for chapter 2-thank you, thank you. You have no idea how much it means to me. And to solareclipses, who has generously agreed to beta this story for me-thank you is not enough. You are a Jedi Knight, and I am but a humble Padawan, LOL. ;) **

**Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. My heart belongs to Edward Cullen.**

* * *

Chapter Three: Atlas

* * *

I had never felt my inadequacies more keenly than I did at that moment, sitting in the crowded cafeteria beside my beautiful, broken girl as she denied her frail, wasted body the most basic of nourishment.

What did I know, after all, about what she needed? What did I truly know about how she had suffered, about how deeply the scars ran on her fragile body, her beautiful, mysterious mind?

I had always wished to know her thoughts, from the very first time I saw her. At the beginning it had been mere curiosity, a desire to divine the inner workings of this unusual, frustrating girl who complicated my existence beyond bearing with her intoxicating scent. Later, I'd wanted to know what she thought of me, as my own feelings for her grew so deep that they rooted out the blood lust, pushing it to the side to make room for my love to bloom.

I'd wanted to explore every facet of her intelligent mind, know everything there was to know about this alluring creature who'd captured my unbeating heart. I'd wanted to know her favorite color, her favorite books, whether she could ever love a monster like me as deeply as I loved her.

And now I would give anything just to know what had put that haunted look in her soft brown eyes, and what I could do to fix it.

My mind was a haze of panicked, swirling thoughts as I sat next to Bella in biology class, staring at her bony hand with its near-transparent skin where it rested atop our lab table. The contrast between the black of the table and the ghost-white of her skin was frightening.

I would swear I could see each tiny individual bone that made up her hand. All twenty-seven of them.

My stomach lurched.

I had brought her to this state.

My Bella, malnourished and sleep-deprived and gripped by the claws of some unknown terror that I could not wrest from her closed-off mind.

I was the most miserable excuse for a man imaginable.

If I had a soul, I knew it would be condemned to suffer the fires of hell for what I had done to this precious girl, this girl I professed to love with everything in me. This girl who I should have protected from anything that would do her harm. This girl who was my life.

This girl who I seemed to hurt at every turn, no matter how I tried to keep her safe.

I struggled to maintain my outward composure as my mind shattered, exploding in a frenzy of pain and unbearable anguish. My mind screamed at me, vicious snarls that tore at my sanity with relentless fangs.

_Your fault, your fault, your fault!_

Yes.

My fault.

I had brought her to this state, and I would do whatever it took to fix it. Anything, everything.

I would not fail her again.

* * *

It took an enormous amount of effort to shove the demons that stabbed at my sanity with brutal, merciless pitchforks into a corner of my mind. They crouched there, shrieking to be free as they continued to torment me with the guilt that refused to be kept at bay.

As I sat through my final class, the only class I didn't share with Bella, my mind raced frantically, images of Bella's gaunt face and body chasing each other through my agonized thoughts as I tried to figure out what to do to help her. I hardly heard the Spanish verbs being conjugated around me as I plotted and planned and prayed to any deity that would deign to listen to a soulless monster such as I.

When the hour ended at last, I rushed to meet Bella outside her calculus class. Her sorrowful eyes met mine as she walked through the door, and a small, unconvincing smile turned her lips up just slightly. She didn't say anything, but she took the hand I offered.

I held her hand in mine with the utmost of care as I walked with her toward the parking lot. I was afraid her delicate bones would turn to dust at my touch.

When we reached her truck, I turned to her. Her eyes were on the ground, and I lifted her chin carefully with the hand that wasn't holding hers. She seemed reluctant to meet my gaze, her eyes darting off to the side and back to my face, as if it pained her to hold my gaze too long.

"We need to talk, love," I said quietly.

She flinched as though I'd struck her. Her hand tightened convulsively around mine, as if she was expecting me to try to pull away. Her free arm came up to wrap around her torso. She didn't speak for a long moment as her heart rate and breathing increased alarmingly.

"I have to work today," she said finally, her words bursting out in a trembling rush. "If I don't leave now, I'll be late."

I kept her chin in my hand, refusing to let her turn away as her breathing turned to gasps. "Look at me, Bella, please. Slow, deep breaths, sweetheart. Just breathe, just breathe. You're alright, just breathe."

Bewildered by her panicked reaction, I moved both of my hands to her face, stroking my fingertips slowly along her cheeks and jaw and lips, over her hair, her wavy brown locks flat and dull and dry beneath my hand, so different from the warm, vibrant mahogany silk I remembered from..._before._

Was there no part of her I'd left unharmed?

Her breathing gradually slowed, but her trembling continued, her small body vibrating beneath my touch. "I have to go to work," she repeated. "I'll talk to you later. Tonight, okay?" Her eyes suddenly snapped to mine. "You'll come over, right?" Her voice was anxious, uncertain, almost desperate.

"Of course I'll come over, love. Tonight, any night, every night. Anytime you want me, I'm here."

Something moved in her eyes before they dropped from mine. Her lips moved slowly and silently, and though she made no sound, I read the words she mouthed with perfect clarity.

_"I always want you."_

My breath left my body as her words recalled the specter of another conversation, here in this very spot, on a cloudy gray day in September when I'd ripped another tiny wound in her heart and mine, only a shadow of more brutal wounds to come.

Her chin was back in my hand before a second had passed. "Look at me, Bella. Look in my eyes, love." I waited until her gaze focused on mine.

Where was the strength of her epiphany, the surety of her belief in my love for her that she had spoken of only days before? I could see nothing of that belief in her eyes now. Had her faith in me faded already, or had it never been there in the first place? Had she said those things merely to soothe my guilt? Did she truly understand how much I loved her, needed her, wanted her?

If she understood nothing else, she had to understand this.

"I always want you too. _Always. _Forever. Never doubt that." Now it was my voice that was anxious, pleading. My eyes were locked on hers, searching desperately for some sign that she still believed in me. "Do you doubt that, Bella?"

She searched my face, and I could only hope she saw the utter sincerity there. She shook her head slowly. "No."

I pulled her face closer to mine, softly touching my lips to the corner of her mouth. Her eyes closed as she inhaled raggedly, and I tasted the floral sweetness of her breath, lingering on my lips as I pulled back just far enough to speak.

"I love you. And when you get home tonight, I'll be there, waiting."

One corner of her mouth lifted slightly in a pale imitation of a smile. "Charlie will be home. He won't let you in the house before visiting hours."

"Then I'll climb in through your bedroom window and wait for you to join me." Perhaps she would feel more secure if she knew I was there, even if she couldn't be with me. I would do anything to erase that moment of hesitation when I'd asked her if she doubted me. I never wanted her to doubt me again. I would never do anything to give her cause to.

She bit her lip. "You'll be bored."

"I'll be where _you_ are. How could I be bored?"

She rolled her eyes and snorted, but I could see in her face that she was relieved. The lines in her forehead relaxed just a fraction, and the arm that was wrapped around her torso fell back to her side.

"I'd wait for hours just to see you for a moment, Bella. And I'll _be there_ tonight. Alright?"

She nodded. "Okay." Her smile was a bit more genuine this time, though her eyes remained guarded. "Now I really have to get to work."

She looked so tired, and I wanted to remind her that she didn't need to work, that I would be more than happy to provide for her every want, every need, material or otherwise. I wanted to take her home and tuck her carefully into bed, wrap my arms around her and guard her as she slept, until the shadows faded from her face, her body, her eyes, her mind, healing the wounds I'd so callously inflicted.

I knew that argument was lost before it was begun, so I simply pressed a kiss to her forehead and held open the driver's side door of her truck. I nuzzled her shoulder as I reached to buckle her seatbelt securely, cherishing her small shiver of reaction.

"I'll see you in a few hours, love. Please don't be anxious. Everything is alright." Everything was most definitely _not_ alright, not at all. But I wanted only to ease her fears. I would worry for us both, and spare her the pain while I could. Tonight would be soon enough for our talk.

As I watched her drive out of the lot in her ancient, wheezing truck, I heard the distinct tenor of Alice's thoughts as she approached. I turned to her, and saw my own fears reflected in her eyes.

"Alice," I said, and my voice sounded desperate. "I need your help."

* * *

As I pondered the selections before me, I realized how little I truly knew about human nutrition. The vampire diet was so simple. We thirsted. We drank. It was as simple and as complicated as that. Though moral implications surrounded the questions of _what_ and _when _and _how_ we drank, we need have no worries as to the nourishment provided by our meals.

In truth, we did not even need to drink blood in order to survive. We would weaken without it. We would be driven mad without it, sanity drowned in waves of unfathomable need. But we would not die, as Carlisle had discovered when he first woke to this new, monstrous existence, sickened by what he'd become.

It was not possible for vampires to starve themselves to death.

But as I stared helplessly at the neat, endless rows of bottles crowding the shelves of the only health food store in Port Angeles, I began to realize just how complex human dietary needs really were.

How could I know what she needed?

The only thing I knew for certain as the bottles of vitamins and supplements mocked me under the garish florescent lights of the store was how dangerous the lack of them could be. This I knew well from two stints in medical school, though I had never given it much thought beyond the abstract.

I was certainly giving it a lot of thought now.

Vitamin B deficiency.

Nerve damage.

Vitamin D deficiency.

Rickets.

Vitamin A deficiency.

Blindness.

Calcium deficiency.

Osteoporosis. Broken bones.

Insufficient protein intake.

The body would begin to consume itself, slowly gnawing away at its own muscle, teeth sharp and merciless, on the long, insidious path to starvation.

_God._

"Calm down, son. It's going to be alright." Carlisle's alarmed voice in my ear snapped my attention back to the shelves before me, and I realized I was gasping like a drowning man. I felt Alice's hand squeezing my shoulder. I slowed my breathing as best I could, Carlisle's voice now a soothing murmur through the phone pressed against my ear.

I'd called him at work, frantic and near incoherent as all my fear and terror tumbled out without pause. If anyone could help me figure out what to do, it was Carlisle.

Alice's visions of Bella's future had tormented me as we flew down the highway in the Volvo, intent on making it to Port Angeles and back before Bella's shift at Newton's ended.

I had promised her I would be waiting for her when she arrived home. I would _never_ break a promise to her again.

We'd made the hour-long drive in thirty minutes as the images from Alice's mind stabbed viciously behind my eyes.

Bella with great dark eyes underlined by great dark circles in her thin, pinched, too-pale face, tears running down her sallow cheeks as she lay in a hospital bed, a feeding tube shoved brutally up her nose.

Bella's crumpled, defeated face as she clung to my hand, her agonized voice begging me not to leave her.

A sickening snapping sound, Bella screaming in pain as her broken leg collapsed underneath her, brittle bones no longer capable of holding her frail body upright.

"_Stop!_" I'd cried, and my voice did not sound like my own.

"I'm sorry, Edward." Alice's apology was quiet. "You know how volatile my visions are. Just because I see those things doesn't mean they'll actually happen."

"_None_ of those things will actually happen. None of them. I won't allow them to."

"You know I'll help you in any way I can. She's my best friend. I'm worried about her too."

I'd taken a shuddering breath as the guilt and shame that were consuming me alive threatened to overwhelm me. "It's my fault, Alice." I kept my eyes on the road, too ashamed to look at her face and see the accusation I was afraid would be there. I felt as though another ounce of condemnation would be enough to kill me. The weight would crush me into dust.

"You told me this would happen. You told me she wouldn't survive if I left her, and I was too arrogant to listen. If I hadn't left, none of this would have happened. How could I _do_ this to her? I _love_ her more than my own life, and I nearly _killed_ her." My voice broke, and I felt my face contort. I knew that if I were human, I would be crying now. I wished I could cry—could release some of this self-disgust that was drowning me, dragging me down to the black depths with sharp, relentless claws.

Alice reached out to squeeze my forearm, a gesture of comfort I in no way deserved.

"She knows you love her, Edward. You were only trying to do what you thought was right. Bella understands that what you did was done out of love."

I jammed my fingers through my hair, pulling viciously, wanting the physical pain to match the pain in my mind. "How can she forgive me for that, Alice? I've hurt her so badly. I'll never be able to make up for any of it. She should hate me."

I considered the black void my very long life would have become if Bella had refused to take me back, and I was once again so profoundly grateful that she had found it in her heart to forgive me, even if I didn't understand how she could.

Alice's voice was firm. "She forgave you because she loves you, maybe more than you even realize." Her mind flashed on an old vision that had tormented me from the first time she'd seen it.

Bella with ghost-white skin and bright ruby eyes, smiling, her arm around Alice.

I shook my head, trying to clear it of both the guilt and the longing that image engendered. "That's not going to happen." My voice was as firm as hers.

"It isn't only up to you, Edward."

My voice hardened further as I remembered the "family meeting" of a few nights before. "Vote or no vote, Alice. I will not allow anyone to harm her." I fixed her with a warning look. "Not Carlisle, not you. Not even myself."

Alice was quiet for a moment, choosing not to argue. "Bella needs you, Edward, and you're _here_. Don't let what happened in the past keep you from being what she needs in the present. If you want to earn what she's given you, just take care of her now. Show her that she can count on you to be what she needs."

It would do _anything_ to earn Bella's forgiveness, whether she asked it of me or not. I would happily spend the rest of my existence on my knees before her, feeding her and loving her and fixing what I'd broken.

The soothing hum of Carlisle's voice in my ear finally calmed me to the point that I could concentrate on his words again. "Say something, Edward. Are you alright?"

_No._ "Yes, I'm here, I'm fine. What should I get for her, Carlisle? There are so many...I don't want to get the wrong ones...I want her to have what she needs."

"Let's start with a multivitamin and a B-complex, and get her some calcium supplements and protein shakes and protein bars. You'll need to get some real food in her immediately, and have her come in to the hospital this week for some blood work. She's going to be alright, Edward. It will take some time and care, but with you to help her, she'll recover."

"Thank you, Dad." The gratitude in my voice was underlined by my use of the title I so rarely gave him, though it was true in every sense but the biological.

"You're welcome, son. We'll take care of her, don't worry."

His confidence should have been reassuring, but I would worry regardless, until my Bella was whole and well, eyes shining and cheeks blushing and lips smiling as they used to.

_Before._

* * *

"I'm going to go upstairs and start my homework while the spaghetti cooks, okay, Dad?"

Bella's voice floated up the stairs. I sat, unmoving, in the rocking chair, where I had been waiting for her since 5:47, thirteen minutes before the end of her shift. I'd slipped soundlessly through her bedroom window, bypassing the front door which I knew Charlie would slam in my face, should I have the audacity to knock before seven o'clock on the dot.

I heard Bella's light steps on the stairs before she burst into the room, her eyes going immediately to the window, then to the rocking chair. Her pulse pounded, and the look of tentative hope on her face was heart-wrenching.

When her eyes caught mine, I watched dawn break across her face.

"You're here," she said, and her voice was full of surprised relief.

"Of course I'm here, love." The surprise in her voice made my chest hurt. Did she doubt me so much?

A genuine smile lit her face as she climbed into my lap, throwing her arms around my neck and tucking herself into my chest. "I missed you."

"And I you, Bella." I held her against me, feeling her warm breath on my neck as I rocked us slowly back and forth, content for the moment simply to have her in my arms, safe and close and home.

Her spine was a hard, prominent ridge beneath my hands.

Her shoulder blades felt sharp enough to cut glass.

"Bella?"

"Mm hmm." She sounded as though she were almost asleep, relaxed and limp against me.

"Can we talk now, love?"

Her body was suddenly rigid in my arms, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Shhh." I ran my hand slowly up her back, from waist to neck, trying to soothe her tense muscles, fearing another reaction like she'd had this afternoon.

She burrowed her face deeper into my neck, her body beginning to tremble, and when she spoke, it was so quietly I wasn't certain she meant for me to hear.

"Are you going to leave again?"

I gasped as razor-sharp claws tipped with poison raked across my stone chest, the empty place where my soul had once been aching with an unbearable sorrow. It seemed as though the merciless fires of my remorse would burn me alive, my guilt-ridden mind singeing, consumed, collapsing into a pile of cold gray ash at her wounded feet, begging for undeserved forgiveness even unto death.

"_No._" My voice came out more harshly than I'd intended, my reaction to her words immediate and visceral. I only hoped she understood that the harshness was directed at myself and my own failings, and not at her. Never at her.

"Never, Bella. _Never_. I will never leave you again."

She didn't respond, and I began to realize just how deeply I had wounded her faith in me, this loving, trusting, selfless, reckless girl who'd given me her trust so easily, until I'd broken it, a fragile thing of glass and air, crushing it beneath my careless feet into the damp ground of the forest...broken, perhaps, forever.

_No._ I had to earn it back, or spend the remainder of my existence trying. I would be her willing slave, her ever-vigilant protector. I would care for her and love her and spend my life on my knees, worshiping and adoring her. If she would only allow me to be with her, I would atone for my sins against her forever, even if there were no chance that I could earn absolution.

I did not deserve absolution, and so I would not ask for it. But I was desperate for her trust.

I said the word over and over again, until it became a humming song, a strange lullaby in the quiet stillness of her room. "_Never, never, never, never..._" Soothing myself as much as her.

Her body shook and shivered in my arms as though she had a palsy as I rocked and chanted and soothed. When she'd quieted at last, her body limp against mine once again, I turned her face to mine, wanting her to see the truth in my eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said, and her voice was small and full of unshed tears. "I don't know why I said that. I know you aren't going to leave, I don't know why I said that..." Her face contorted.

"Don't ever apologize to me for that, Bella, please. The only one who should be apologizing is me."

She shook her head, and a tear spilled over, her lips quivering in her misery. I kissed it away, tasting salt and flowers and sadness.

"Never will I leave you, my sweet girl." I stroked the damp violet shadow beneath her eye. "I'm only worried about you."

"I'm fine," she said immediately, and a window closed in her eyes.

"When was the last time you ate, Bella?"

"I'm _fine_, Edward. I had breakfast this morning, I just didn't feel well at lunchtime...my stomach was upset...I'm okay now, I'm having spaghetti for dinner with Charlie."

I stared into her eyes, trying to see past the shutters she'd erected at the mention of food. Her stumbling explanations halted at my look, and she began to worry her lower lip between her teeth, looking away from my gaze.

I tried to keep my voice as even and gentle as possible. "You're so thin, love. It seems as though...you haven't been eating properly for a long time." For about six months. Six months when I should have been here to keep her safe and well.

I cursed myself to the deepest depths of hell where my blackened heart belonged.

"I'm not thin," she snapped back immediately, her voice hard.

"Bella..." How could she not see?

I carefully pulled her arm from around my neck and held it before her, wrapping my hand around her sticklike wrist in the gentlest grip I could manage.

My fingers overlapped each other by more than an inch on both sides.

She did not seem to react in the slightest to the sight of her frighteningly fragile wrist or the prominent bones and veins of her birdlike hand, staring at them without comprehension.

"You have to start eating more, sweetheart." _You have to start eating at all._ I did not for one moment believe that she had eaten this morning as she'd claimed.

"I'm _fine_," she snapped again, and I knew I could come to hate that accursed word. Nothing about this was _fine_.

"You aren't fine. I'm so very worried about you, love." I reached for one of the bags I'd brought with me. "I've brought you some things. Vitamins and protein shakes..._please_ take them, Bella. Your body needs them. And it needs good food, lots of good food so you can be well again."

She scoffed, but her eyes were full of sheer terror, giving the lie to her carefully cultivated nonchalance. "This is ridiculous, Edward. So I missed one meal. You don't need to freak out and start shoving _vitamins _at me." She snorted derisively, rolling her eyes. "You're overreacting, just like you always do."

It was painfully obvious that she'd missed much more than one meal. I wondered if she'd eaten a single full meal since I'd left.

"There is no such thing as overreacting when it comes to your safety and well-being, Bella. Not to me." With one glaring exception visible only to hindsight which I would do anything to correct.

Including buy her vitamins. One small pathetic offering to set against my many sins, a single drop in an endless ocean.

I had been comforted slightly by the visions Alice had shown me as we'd ridden home from Port Angeles today. Bella swallowing small white pills. Slowly eating a bite of the mushroom ravioli I'd picked up for her at Bella Italia, which even now sat on her desk nestled in a special thermal container that the hostess had assured me would keep it hot for hours.

To argue necessity with her at this point seemed counterproductive, a battle I couldn't win. I settled for coaxing. "Please, Bella. For me. I'll feel so much better if you let me take care of you properly. Humor me, love." I held up the bottle of vitamins hopefully.

She rolled her eyes again. "Fine," she huffed, her mouth a tight line. "I'll take them after dinner. I have to get back downstairs, the spaghetti's probably burning."

I kissed her temple. "Thank you."

She nodded, not meeting my eyes, and was gone.

I listened as she and Charlie sat down to dinner, as two forks once again scraped two plates.

I listened to Charlie comment on Bella's apparent lack of appetite. "Not hungry tonight, Bells?"

I listened to her quiet, furtive reply. "I had a big lunch, Dad."

My jaw clenched.

* * *

**Some extraordinarily kind person nominated the one-shot I wrote a few months ago, "The Only Right Way Left," for the "Best One-Shot of 2010" contest on twificone . com. I am beyond flattered that anyone would put something I wrote in a category like that. To whoever nominated me-you cannot imagine what that means to me. Your kindness is truly appreciated more than you know. Thank you!**


	4. Chapter 4:  Ravenous

**Sorry for the wait, guys. I was sick for a couple weeks and my creative energy was just nonexistent. Hope you enjoy this chapter! **

**Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. My heart belongs to Edward Cullen. **

* * *

Chapter Four: Ravenous

* * *

Three hours later, I ducked back through her open window, my feet making no noise on the worn wooden floorboards as I crossed to the rocking chair once again, returning to my vigil of sorts. Waiting for her. Always and only for her.

I'd appeared at the front door to spend my allotted two and a half hours with Bella at exactly seven o'clock-sans car, which Charlie thankfully didn't notice, as I had not wanted to leave her to retrieve it. I was being unforgivably sloppy today with our usual carefully observed covers designed to keep human suspicion from falling upon us.

I had no patience for such things, not today. Not when my mind was teetering on the edge of insanity. Appearing more than ten miles away from my home without any apparent means of transportation other than my own feet was the very least of my worries.

I waited, silent and still. Despairing, and determined.

This could not go on any longer.

I would take care of her, nourish her body, heal her mind and her scarred heart.

I was the one who had wounded it, and I would be the one to fix it.

Time does not move the same for my kind as it does for humans. Hours pass in what seem mere moments when you have eternity stretching before you. Yet it seemed a century passed as I waited for her to come upstairs.

When she came into her room at last after calling a goodnight to Charlie, I held out the container of mushroom ravioli wordlessly.

She looked at it with surprise and more than a little apprehension.

"I already ate," she said plaintively.

I didn't reply, and I didn't lower the container. I patted my lap, inviting her to sit.

She came forward slowly, hesitantly, like a cornered animal, her face tormented.

"Please, Bella." I gestured her forward again, relieved when she finally climbed into my lap, her face pinched with fear, as though she were stepping up to the gallows.

I handed her the plastic fork, and her shoulders slumped in defeat.

I watched for the next forty-five minutes as she consumed tiny bites of ravioli with agonizing slowness, her struggle plain on her face. I rubbed her back gently the entire time, her pain echoing in my own chest.

Why was it so difficult for her to eat? I wanted so badly to know the demons that haunted her, creating shadows in her beautiful eyes and hollows in her pale cheeks. I wanted to know her mind, hear her thoughts and vanquish her dragons forever.

I wouldn't press her for answers tonight, though. Her emotions were already hanging by the barest thread, and I feared that having that discussion now would cause it to snap. It was enough that she was eating. Enough for tonight.

I watched as she swallowed a pill from each of the bottles I'd brought her, silent and resigned, her face a still mask, tension roiling beneath the surface. She balked when I tried to press a protein bar on her.

"Please, Edward, no more." She was near tears again, her features pinched. I could not help but have pity, hating to cause her distress of any kind. She had made enough progress for tonight, and now she needed rest.

"Alright, love. No more for tonight. Sleep now, sweetheart, while I hold you. I'll be here with you all night, and I won't let anything harm you."

I carried her to her bed, her body seemingly weightless against the steel muscles of my arms, pulling back the blankets and tucking her securely beneath them. I lay down beside her, wrapping my arms tightly around her bundled form.

"I love you, Bella. Rest now," I murmured into her hair, brushing my mouth against the soft strands. "I'll take care of you, beautiful girl." I pressed a kiss to her temple, then tucked her head carefully under my chin and began to hum her lullaby.

But her body was still rigid with tension as she moved restlessly, sleep eluding her despite her exhaustion. She shifted against me, shrugging her arms and torso free of the encumbering blankets.

"Kiss me," she begged, and her voice was like the pulsing ache of a bruise.

I kissed her lips lightly, softly, so carefully, ever aware of the fragility of this precious girl in my arms.

Her response was immediate and overwhelming.

Her hands locked onto the collar of my shirt as her mouth opened, a shuddering sigh escaping her lips. She dragged her body closer to mine, her mouth feverish as she kissed me back voraciously.

Her breath was a cloud of the most heady perfume in my mouth. Her taste exploded across my ravenous tongue, more blindingly delicious than any blood I'd ever tasted save hers. I felt a rush of cold venom flooding my mouth, a helpless response to the aching desire her exquisite scent engendered. The monster within me reared up, roared, urging me to take what my nature demanded I have, to sate the feral beast with her hot, ambrosial blood.

He was leashed, restrained beneath iron bands forged out of love for the human girl in my arms. I would protect my Bella from _anything_ that tried to harm her, including the monster that lived within my wretched stone body.

He struggled against his bonds, shrieking for blood, but to no avail. My love for her was too strong to ever allow him release.

I already knew I could not live if she didn't. The thought of her ceasing to exist was..._unbearable._

The pain in my throat was scorching nevertheless, flames searing and ripping at me without mercy. Her tongue moved over my lower lip without warning, sending a particularly brutal wave of her divine flavor into my mouth with her sighing breath.

I pulled back, startled and unsettled by the strength of my reaction. "Bella..." I warned.

Her eyes were slightly glazed, and she breathed heavily, gasping for air and sending yet more waves of her exquisite scent over my face. She leaned forward and pressed another hard kiss to my mouth. Her heart pounded a frantic staccato rhythm against my palm where it rested on her back.

She pulled back this time, a tiny, needy whimper breaking from her swollen lips. Her hungry eyes locked on mine as she tugged on my arm, breaking my hold on her and taking my hand in hers.

She pulled my hand toward her, and pressed it firmly against her breast, her back arching instantly against my palm.

I gasped as another monster roared to life inside of my body with a terrifying appetite of his own.

Her eyes fell closed as her mouth fell open, and a sound escaped her, a whimpering, shuddering moan that made my traitorous body burn and tighten unbearably in helpless response.

I was off the bed and across the room before the sound was complete.

We stared at one another.

I crouched against the wall beside her window, my body shaking with horrified reaction to what had just happened. The ripe, aching fullness in my lower body was a pulsing throb as the arousal I was normally able to control in her presence through sheer force of will tormented me, refusing to be tamed.

I wondered if she could see it, and I felt a sharp flare of embarrassment and shame.

I could still feel the ghost of her on my palm, my cold marble hand tingling with a strange fire, remembering the feel of her small soft breast, the heat of her burning through the single thin layer of cotton that covered her.

My body hardened still further at the memory, and I shivered helplessly as the heated sensations in my body intensified. The hand that had touched her in that soft, forbidden place ached with heated pinpricks of pleasure and..._want._

This new monster wanted to devour her in a wholly other way.

He wanted to touch her there again.

He wanted to pull away the concealing fabric, and _see._

He wanted to press and stroke and cup and kiss and..._taste._

_Not_ her blood.

My chest heaved as my gaze dropped against my will, falling on the small, subtly rounded curves of her breasts beneath her blue cotton shirt. Her body vibrated, pulsed with each panting breath, each pounding, fluttering beat of her heart.

Her nipples were pebbled with arousal, pressing stiffly against the thin fabric that covered them.

I tore my eyes away, flinching back against the wall, my hands clenching into fists in a spasm of shame.

My mother—_both_ of my mothers—had raised me to be a gentleman. What was I doing, staring at her secret places, violating her privacy in such a shameful way? Leering at her, salivating as though she were a choice piece of meat.

I turned my eyes toward the floor, unable to meet Bella's gaze.

What must she think of me?

"Edward?" Her voice was soft, hesitant, unsure.

I couldn't bear to look at her, terrified to see the accusation that would surely be in her eyes.

"Edward, please...please look at me." Her voice broke, a sound like an unhealed wound, betraying an ocean of hurt roiling beneath the surface.

Hurt.

My accursed hand, that even now was clenched in a grip tight enough to crush stone.

My Bella's soft flesh, delicate as spun glass beneath my hard palm.

_Hurt._

_NO!_

My gaze whipped toward hers, my head lifting with an audible snap.

Her face...

Pained did not begin to describe it. She stared at me with broken brown eyes.

I was back across the room in an instant, kneeling beside her on the bed, my hands hovering over her shoulders, afraid to touch, to harm her anymore than I already had with an incautious hand.

"Did I hurt you?" My voice was pure agony, an echo from the inside of a lonely grave, buried alive.

Oh, God, what had I _done?_

Her brow puckered. "What?"

"How badly are you hurt?" My voice was a panicked moan of horror and gut-wrenching fear.

My mind filled with sickened imaginings.

Her soft white breast marred with a dark blue-black bruise in the exact shape of my cold, hard, impossibly strong hand, delicate blood vessels crushed beneath my careless touch.

The sound of her fragile, calcium-starved ribs cracking beneath my other hand where it had rested on her back. Would I even have heard that sound above the snarling of the twin monsters inside me? My mind, usually so acutely aware of the frailty of her human body, had been unforgivably distracted by my sheer lust for this beautiful siren of a girl.

A single moment's inattention on my part was all that was necessary. A single careless touch, and her bones would turn to dust beneath my hands. Her skin would shatter under my fingers like the bursting of a soap bubble. Her internal organs would be crushed.

I was utterly repulsed by every part of what I was. Would I never stop harming her?

My panic only grew as Bella remained silent, staring at me in seeming confusion, forehead still creased, lips open but unmoving.

"Answer me, Bella, _please!_ Where do you hurt?" My voice was almost certainly loud enough to wake Charlie, but I was far beyond caring.

"Why would you think I was hurt, Edward?" Her expression was bewildered.

"Just tell me, Bella. Does it hurt to breathe? Did I injure your ribs? Or your..." I couldn't speak the word. I kept my eyes carefully away from her chest, the hand that had touched her there in that soft place curling inward, as if to instinctively restrain itself from doing her further harm.

My other hand moved to hover over my own hip, preparing to rip my cell phone out of my pocket and call Carlisle, ask him to meet us at the hospital. She would need medical attention immediately.

My stomach heaved with revulsion.

I would gladly rip off my own hands if I had done her even the smallest injury.

"I'm fine, Edward," she said at last, her voice bemused. "I'm not hurt at all. Why would you think I would be?"

"You're certain? Don't be brave for my sake, Bella. You _must _tell me if I hurt you. Are you absolutely certain you're alright?"

I could _not _allow her to let me off the hook for this, to suffer in silence for the sake of alleviating my guilt.

"I'm _sure_," she insisted. "I'm okay. Tell me why you thought that."

"My hands..." I shuddered to think of the damage they could do to her. I wanted to pull the fabric of her shirt aside to check for bruising. I wanted to rush her to the hospital for x-rays, just

to be safe.

_Damn it._ Why couldn't I be a normal human man? A man who could touch her without fearing he would kill her, mangle her tender flesh beyond recognition. A man who could give her physical love. Give her pleasure without pain.

I was not that man. As much as I wished I could be, I would never be that man.

Despair washed over me in drowning waves as I realized how truly inadequate I was. How could I expect her to stay with me when there were so many things I couldn't do for her? So many desires I could never fulfill. I could only give her pain, and loss, and the darkness of endless night.

Desperate to reassure myself that she was unharmed, I allowed my shaking hands to touch her at last, laying them carefully on her shoulders, gently, so gently. I smoothed my palms down her back with a feather-light touch, softly feeling for any injuries to her ribs or spine. I watched her face intently, waiting for the wince that would give her away, but it never came.

The breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding left my body in a gust, profound relief making my body sag, my knees trembling in reaction. I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face in her sweet-scented hair as her arms came around me in return.

"I'm sorry, Bella." I needed to apologize to her for so many things, not least of which was the events of the past five minutes.

I was sorry for leaving her.

I was sorry for being a monster instead of a man.

Sorry for touching her with hands that could destroy.

Sorry that I couldn't touch her again.

Sorry for wanting to.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" She spoke into my neck, the soft vibrations of her voice and the gentle whisper of her breath on my skin soothing me like a lullaby, quiet and sweet. Her scent was like a perfumed drug as I breathed her in, calming me as only her nearness could.

"I could have hurt you, love. I came so close to hurting you..."

She huffed an exasperated sigh. "You _didn't hurt me,_ Edward. Besides, I was the one who made you touch me..." I felt the heat of her blush against my skin as she buried her face more deeply into my neck. "I wanted you to touch me," she whispered into my throat. She pulled back to look at me, an expression of pleading on her pale, tired face. "You didn't hurt me, Edward. You _won't_ hurt me. _Please..._"

She leaned forward suddenly and seized my lips in another fierce kiss, her mouth pressing so hard against mine that I feared she would draw blood, the fragile tissue of her lips cracking under the pressure of my hard mouth.

I pulled back slightly, easing the pressure on her soft flesh. "Careful, love," I cautioned.

She made a frustrated sound, half whimper, half plea. "You _won't hurt me,_" she said again. Her body quivered restlessly in my arms. She reached out and seized my hand in a feverish grip, drawing it once again toward her breast, her body straining closer to mine.

"No." My arm turned to stone beneath her fingers, halting its progress only the barest inch away from her chest. The heat from her tiny body bloomed enticingly against my palm, calling to me, the sweetest, most drugging lure imaginable. The thought of touching her again was like an opiate to my senses, the desperate, aching hunger near impossible to deny.

But I had to deny it.

I _would_ keep her safe.

She released my hand, her arms dropping to her sides in defeat. An expression of raw pain once again flickered over her face, contorting her features. The most desolate look filled her soft brown eyes, and then suddenly they went flat. Empty, hollow, expressionless.

A thrill of pure, unadulterated fear skated down my spine.

I almost couldn't bear to hold her empty gaze, and then she was the one looking away, her eyes focusing somewhere left of my shoulder.

"I can't...do _that_ with you, Bella," I said haltingly, my usually infallible voice hoarse with sorrow and regret. "You know I can't. It just isn't possible for us. It wouldn't be safe for you. I'm so sorry I can't give you that, sweetheart."

Her face flushed with embarrassment, but she still wouldn't meet my eyes. I rubbed my palms softly over her shoulders, attempting to loosen her stiff posture without success.

"It's fine," she said in a dull voice, her features still set in an emotionless mask that frightened me beyond telling. She turned away, righting the tangled bedclothes and lying back down on her side, her back to me as she huddled beneath the blankets.

I hesitated. Was she angry with me? "Do you...want me to sit in the chair tonight, love?" As badly as I wanted to hold her while she slept, I would never subject her to an unwelcomed touch. If she needed space, I would give her what she needed, though my empty arms would ache all night, bereft, desperate to comfort her.

"No," she said quietly.

"Do you want me to go?" I would leave if she asked me to, though it felt like it would kill me, to not be where she was. I held my breath, waiting for her answer. Exactly how badly had I messed up tonight?

"No!" Her voice was loud this time, panicked. She twisted her body around to face me, scrambling into a sitting position, eyes frantic as she reached out a hand as if in supplication. "Please don't leave me, Edward! _Please!_" She seized my hand in a death grip, squeezing so hard I feared the tiny bones in her hand would crack against my marble skin. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again, just please wait! Please don't go!" Her voice was near hysterical now as she clutched at me.

I thought over my words, and realized what she would have heard in them. And I cursed myself for a thoughtless fool.

"That's not what I meant, Bella. I'm _not_ going to leave you. I'll never go anywhere unless you ask me to." How long would it be before she believed my words? Believed in me again? How many times would we replay this scene before I earned back the trust I had crushed? The trust I had thrown away like so much garbage. If only I had realized what a precious gift it was. "I only meant for the night, love. I want to stay here with you, every night as long as you'll allow it. But I'll understand if you...don't want me here tonight." I caressed her hair as the terror began to fade from her eyes. "I'd still be waiting for you in the morning."

"I want you here," she said in a small voice, reaching out to touch my face in turn. "I'm sorry for reacting that way again, I...I'm so sorry, I trust you, I do..." She shook her head, frustrated, then met my eyes, hers full of unnecessary apologies, unneeded pleas for forgiveness. "Please stay with me, Edward. There won't ever be a night when I'll turn you away."

"And there won't ever be a night when I don't want to be with you, love." She smiled a little, but it quivered around the edges. She pulled me toward her as she lay back down, wrapping my arm tightly around her waist as we settled back into her bed.

Her dreams this night were restless, her limbs moving, tangling in the blankets as she shifted. The only thing that never moved was the hand she'd placed on my arm, as if to prevent me from pulling away. The furrow between her brows seemed permanently etched into her porcelain skin.

Her sleep talking began around midnight, strange broken mutterings that seemed unconnected.

"It's okay, Dad..." The crease between her brows deepened as she spoke.

"...mint chocolate chip..." She whimpered, a longing sound.

"...no olives..." Her hand twitched against my arm.

Her breathing accelerated . "Please, Edward..." _Anything, Bella. Anything._

"Stay," she sighed. "Don't go. Please...don't go."

The same words she'd spoken that first night. The night I'd slipped through her window for the first time, watching this stunning brown-haired girl who'd captured my dead heart as she slept, murmuring in her dreams. Only this time her voice was an anxious plea as her hand contracted around my arm, clutching my sleeve tightly in her fist.

"I won't, Bella," I murmured into her ear. "I'll always be here, love."

She sighed again, and settled, the tension in her limbs easing a bit. I held her as tightly as I dared.

My beautiful Bella.

I would never let her go.

But as she drifted into deeper sleep, she spoke one last time. Her words stabbed at me, white hot pain shredding at my chest, and I wondered if I'd already lost her, even as I held her safe in my arms.

Perhaps she would be the one to let go. Perhaps she already had, whether her conscious mind realized it or not.

"Wait, Jake," she whispered.

* * *

**Don't worry-this is an E/B story all the way. I'm just all about the angst. :)**

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